


deadline

by nobodynoticeable



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: No Fandom - Freeform, personal, sorry about this, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6941899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodynoticeable/pseuds/nobodynoticeable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i won't last another day like this</p>
            </blockquote>





	deadline

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:  
> incest implied, pedophilia, body image talk, parents mention, suicide (lol)

really though, i'm not going to make it to 18.

that sounds so angsty when i write it but in all seriousness, it's just not going to happen. there is no logical way i will reach my eighteenth birthday alive.

i don't really belong anywhere, not truly. i have two houses, but i can't live with mum. she hates me, abuses neglects ruins destroys hates me, and though it's probably nothing above a bit of manipulation and aiding in the creation of my (undiagnosed like every other fucking thing) eating disorder, this place doesn't feel like home. the only thing that feels remotely kind about this place is my darling sweetheart ~~depended~~ baby boy pup, but a sturdy house does not a dog make, no matter how precious.

dad's house is my default "i want to live here forever and ever" but, well. him. not dad, though arrogant and subtly sexist he is, but Him. the one who gropes and suggests and leers and stares and _brushes_ ever so softly, ever so accidentally, ever so apologetic, ever so constant, against parts i try my best to hide. the one who, with one look, made me unbearably uncomfortable whenever i wore jeans. the one who, with one comment, banished a new top to the back of my closet in fear of hearing it again. the one who, with one crude grabbing gesture and predatorily wiggling eyebrows and a triumphant sneer, made me run to my room in tears, not quite sure why, not entirely certain what the joke was, why i should have been laughing, why i wasn't, ripping off the dress that revealed small windows to nothing on my ten-year-old prepubescent body, throw it away, never wear it again. that beautiful dress i'd wanted to wear forever, before He destroyed it. 

but this isn't about clothing. i use clothing as a metaphor, i suppose, for a multitude of things. take want you want from it; is it my childhood? innocence? identity? self-obsession?

i'm off topic.

i'm also dead before my eighteenth birthday.

for sure.

 


End file.
